


Nonviolent Communication

by DeviousPenguins



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Gore, Psychotherapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviousPenguins/pseuds/DeviousPenguins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jerry gets fed up with the family's dysfunction and tries to fix it, employing the Meeseeks for help leading to hurt feelings and a terrible realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Compassionate Communication

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the famous techniques of Marshall Rosenberg. Based on ideas brought up in a Skype group chat. Double thanks to kouskousx who helped me when I got stuck on dialogue!

Rick popped the tab on his soda and walked to the family room where the Smiths had gathered on the sofa. Morty had come to fetch him from the garage moments earlier prattling on about an "exercise" that his Dad insisted they do. In the middle of the room on the coffee table sat the Meeseeks box. Rick plopped himself on the couch and sipped on the drink, eyeing the box with suspicion.

"I thought you learned your lesson with this thing. Is t-t-urrrp-this what you called me over here for? To fix more of your per-per-urrrp-personal problems." Rick asked more than irritated.

"No, well sort of." Jerry replied walking behind the table. "Since this family clearly has issues" Jerry paused to shoot Rick a dirty look."And things have been a little cuh-razy around here lately I thought we'd have a family meeting to air out our problems."

Rick rolled his eyes and gulped down more soda.

"Okaaaay... that still doesn't explain the Meeseeks Box." Beth replied. "And didn't we agree not to use it again?" 

"I'm getting there!" Jerry protested. "Ahem.... When we attack each other with our problems we get nowhere, but if we act out our problems we can address them without hurting anyone's feelings. We'll be able to actually hear the issue before we can react. Since we have Meeseeeks we can make it more realistic and have them respond like we think the other person would. Then after we work it out!" Jerry made a fist and dropped it into his other hand, his eyes filled with determination. "What do you think?"

"That.... might just work." Beth put her hand on her chin and looked down at the blue box.

"Whatever." Summer replied, continuing to tap on her cellphone. Jerry snatches it from her hands. "Hey!!'

"You're a part of this family too." Jerry says putting the cellphone on the TV stand. Summer crosses her arms. "I'll go first." 

Jerry presses the button on the box and a Meeseeks poofs into existence. 

"Mr. Meeseeks I want you to pretend to be Beth."

"Oooo can do!" It replies and does a little dance. "Look at me! I'm Beth Sanchez and I get drunk on wine to escape the insecurity I feel about my dad leaving me!" It says in an overly-chipper voice. 

Beth scowls at Jerry. "Oh two can play at that game." She presses the button.

"Mr. Meeseeks be Jerry."

"Oooo can do! I'm Jerry and I get attached to anyone who validates me because I'm insecure about myself!" The meeseeks dances around with it's hands in the air.

"Oooh me next!" Summer leans forward in her seat and pressed the button. "Mr. Meeseeks pretend to be Morty!" 

"I'm Morty and even though I sound like I haven't hit puberty I've masturbated in every room in the house."

"Hey!" Morty stands up, his fists balled and glares at Summer.

"What he said it." She replied smiling smugly and looking at the Meeseeks.

"Morty! Is that true?" Jerry asks surprised.

"Wh-wh-what? I don't do it when anyone's around." Morty replies, cheeks blushing looking away.

"Son, that's inappropriate you've got to learn to control your ur-" Jerry starts but Beth cuts in.

"Oh this again? You can't fight nature Jerry. Don't shame him for... for going through puberty." Beth retorts glaring at her husband.

Morty continues to stare Summer down and without taking his eyes off of her he smacks the button.

"Mr. Meeseeks be Summer!"

"I'm Summer and I'm obsessed with social status because I was an unplanned, unwanted, pregnancy!" The Meeseeks dances around and joins the line of other Meeseeks.

"You little shit!" Summer lunges for Morty grabbing him by the shoulders, Beth steps in and grabs Summer's hands in an attempt to seperate the two.

"Hey! Knock it off!"

The three struggle together as Summer tries to reach for Morty, who stands behind his mom yelling obceenities back.

"Gee Jerry. Great idea." Rick quip, voice filled with sarcasm watching the chaos before him.

"Oh yeah Rick? Lets see what they had to say about you!" Jerry yells over the continuing argument between Beth, Morty, and Summer. He hits the button. "Mr. Meeseeks pretend to be Rick!" Jerry shoots him a smug look in anticipation of the burn he expects the Meeseeks to deliver. Rick looks on, unperturbed sipping his soda.

"Ooooo can do! I"m Rick Wubalubadubdub! I tried to kill myself this morning but I was too drunk to hold the razor!" 

Rick spits out his soda , spraying the sticky liquid all over the carpet in front of him. Beth, Morty, and Summer fall silent and stop moving. They all stare at Rick in concern. Rick doubles over coughing out the rest of his soda and looks up to see the whole family staring at him horrified.

"Dad I didn't know... I-" Beth's eyes starts to fill with tears and Rick sighs. Beth's breath hitches with tiny sobs and her mascara starts to run down her face. She sits on the couch next to her Dad head in her hands.

"Great now you made my daughter cry." Rick says glaring at Jerry who grabs his arm with his hand and looks down at the rug. Rick takes his flask out of his lab coat and takes a swig, putting the metal container on the couch next to Beth before scooting over and putting his arm around her.

"All I want is for everyone to be happy." She sobs into her hands. Rick put his arm around her. She had imagined that with her dad back in her life that her family would be whole again, picking up from where it left off. Sure it was a different family, but Rick would be a part of it. Everyday there was that tiny voice worrying that he would leave again, through a portal, or in the spaceship, but not like this. Not like the way that was made apparent by the high pitched happy-go-lucky voice of a meeseeks. She had never considered him leaving in that way. With his life. 

"Beth- we're like every other middle-class family. They've got problems too, we jus-just, we can't see them. Don't-don't cry sweetie." 

Beth turns towards her father and sobs into his chest. Rick wraps both arms around her and pulls her into a hug, patting her back. She pushes up closer to Rick her cheeks rubbing against his coarse labcoat. He had honestly not thought about Beth or Morty or anyone really that morning. Hell he wasn't really thinking about anything. Just wanting the pain to go away he had one of those moments. They happened every now and again. When everything he'd seen and felt came crashing down like a grand piano that had hovered over him, rope slowly going undone as he continued to ignore it. To not feel. He cursed the version of him this morning that caused this whole mess as he held Beth close.

"Yeah, mom—you should Lindsey’s parents, they’re like, ‘The People’s Court’ bad, okay?” Summer says sitting down on the couch next to her.

"Beth, just—think of this as a roast! A funny, a little more serious roast!" Jerry offered as consolation walking toward the couch and holding his hands out as if the gesture would somehow fix the shitshow that this little family exercise had devolved into.

"Mom, we're okay. Everyth-Everything is going to be fine." Morty says joining in on the family effort to console Beth. He looked over at Rick and made a note to himself to talk to him afterwards. Her sobs slow until they've gone and she wipes her eyes, smudging her makeup even more. Everyone's words of encouragement had lifted her spirits and against it all a small smile crept onto her face.

"Thanks everyone. I... I think I'm okay." She sat up and gave Rick a kiss on the cheek.

"Okay! Well I think we've done enough therapy for the day. Meeseeks we're done here." Jerry said waving the creatures off. The meeseeks poof out of existence one by one. 

"Yeah you said it." Summer agreed. She grabbed her phone off the TV stand and sat back on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. RIck stands up and grabs his flask from between the couch cushions.

Morty gives his mom a hug and out of the corner of his eye he sees white fabric slipping into the hallway.


	2. Behavioral Distress

Morty paces in his room mumbling to himself. "Hey Rick you kn-kn-ow it's okay to, it's fine to, no. Please try to- ugh. Th-there's always ano-another wa- fuck." Morty stutters and swears under his breath. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, brows creased with a scowl and he sighs and throws himself onto the bed to stare at the white stucco ceiling. It's been over 10 minutes since he watched Rick's labcoat flutter away he still couldn't figure out how to talk to him. His eyes close and his chest feels like is going to cave in on itself. Rick was going to just leave them without a thought. Just like he left years ago. Morty was pretty sure he had never seen his mom cry like that before. What the hell was Rick thinking?! Anger boiled over in his heart. Part of him knew it wasn't Rick's fault, but still the heat came. The selfish asshole was going to leave them without saying a thing. Leaving him to his shitty life, being ignored by Jessica, having to work "twice as hard" at school, knowing that there was someone who saved him from all that. And that someone left without a word. Emboldened by his anger Morty jumps up from bed and walks downstairs.

SLAM! The door into the garage bangs open and metal clatters on the ground, a screwdriver previously in Rick's hand rolls long the concrete floor. He stares daggers at whoever caused him to drop it. Yellow shirt. Its Morty.

"What the fu-uurrgh-ck Morty?!" He barks sending spit flying through the air. The boy merely stands, a pathetic excuse for a scowl on his face. Rick takes a drink from his flask, dragging it out before capping it and wiping his mouth and staring at the boy from behind his labcoat sleeve. "You should be happy this wasn't tr-tr-trigger sensitive dipshit. Pi-pi-pick, hand me that screwdriver before I-"

"Shut up Rick!" Morty cuts him off and Rick shuts his mouth quick. He stares wide eyes and mouth agape at his grandson. 

"What was that in there? I mean is it true? Y-Y-You tr-tr-tried t-t-to" Morty's angry words slowly turn into stutters and tears form in the corners of his eyes and his voice breaks. He pouts tears welling the bottom of his lids. 

Rick leans down and picks up the screwdriver not bothering to look at Morty. He turns back towards his workbench without a word and continued to tinker. It was too early for this shit.

"Rick! You d-don't get to ignore me this time!" Morty squeaks and grabs Rick's hand, heart hammering in his chest. The boy stares at Rick. Blue eyes look back, filled with irritation. In that moment Morty wished he had practiced what he was going to say beforehand. White knuckles grip the screwdriver tighter and Rick pulls it back.

"W-what? You want me to spill m-m-my heart and s-s-soul about some shitty thing I did when I was drunk? It's nothing."

"It's n-not nothing! Di-didn't you see mom in there?! Y-y-you can't just do whatever you want and pre-pretend it was nothing. We care about you! I care about you..." A tearful Morty grabs Rick's shoulders. The older man shoves him off and Morty flinches back like he'd been hit. Rick says nothing and turns back toward the worktable. He sticks the screwdriver into the machine hoping that if he ignored him for long enough Morty would just leave.

It doesn't happen as fast as he wants. Morty stands eyes fixed on Rick's shoulders. He glances at Rick's wrists as he works. They're covered by his blue long sleeve, but he sees a tinge of red. A blood stain. A dull pain radiates through Morty's chest. 

"Ric-"

Rick slumps down in his chair, but he doesn't turn around. He doesn't move a muscle, hand still gripping the screwdriver. He waits. Morty opens his mouth to say something, but the words don't come. Awkwardly he hangs, trying to push down his anger to tell Rick it was okay to be supportive like he wants, but he can't. In the end Morty walks out of the garage. Leaving Rick alone to his thoughts. That night Rick empties his flask. Again, and again, until he's drinking straight out of the whiskey bottle and passes out, alone, on the cold concrete floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter! Promise the next one will be longer :)


	3. Inpatient Observation

Rick wakes up in the middle of the night shivering, the cold concrete sapping the warmth from his body. It wasn't unusual for him to wake up on the floor. What was unusual was that he could still feel the dull ache in his chest. The shit feeling he was trying to numb with whiskey that managed to persist. Rick sighs deeply. Slowly and shakily, he gets up from the floor, using his work table for support. On it sat his unfinished project a machine, something like a claw machine mixed with a lamp, and next to it the red crystals that would power the finished product. Another plan for another day, Rick thinks to himself. He stumbles out of the garage, through the hallway, and into the bathroom. The bathroom mirror, which hid a medicine shelf behind it, slightly ajar and in the angled mirror he sees himself. His face pulled into a frown with dark bags under his eyes and green drool hanging off his chin, the fabled Rick Sanchez. Self-depreciation and guilt grip him as he stares into his own empty eyes. He absentmindedly scratches at his wrist, the one with the blood on his sleeve, and remembers holding the blade to his neck. He thumbs his collarbone under his cyan sweater where he accidentally made the first cut. The line still an angry red on his skin. Being drunk as shit hadn't done much for his aim. Couldn't even get that right. Dark thoughts filled his mind and before he can really think he reaches for the medicine cabinet. There in the upper left corner sat a box of replacement razors. He grabs them off the shelf and slips the lid off sending the plastic clattering to the floor.

Empty.

Rick chucks the box in the trash. His face sours. Rick searches the bathroom checking in all the boxes and containers, even in the shower. Nothing, not even the razor he used for shaving. The plastic handle sat headless on the marble in the shower. Rick tugs at his coat sleeves nervously. What started as a impulse decision quickly becomes an urge. Then it hits him. Razors weren't the only blades in the house. He makes his way to the kitchen only to find all the drawers locked. Apparently while he was out cold someone had taken the time to lock up all the kitchen drawers and cabinets. A sense of urgency builds in Rick, and he jangles the locks one by one hoping at least one hadn't been closed properly. He turns towards the garage to fetch his laser gun when he bumps into Morty. 

"They're locked Rick you can't open them." Morty says flatly. 

"Did you do this?" Rick asks eyeing the boy. He looked worn.

"No-Mom did, but I told her to do it." 

"Mo-Morty you piece of shit, You don't have to baby-proof the go-goddamn house. I know y-y-you went through my bathroom Mo-Moooouuughty. How many times do I have to te-tell you to not to fuck with my shit?" Rick says imbuing each word with as much irritation as humanly possible. Morty doesn't reply, instead he stares Rick down with a look of pure determination. Rick stares back, gaze flicking between Morty's eyes.

"Where'd you put them huh? Where's my shit Morty?" Rick continues, voice now tinged with desperation. It's obviously not about personal privacy, it's about Rick doing something stupid, again, and Morty wasn't having it.

"You mean the razors? They're gone Rick! Don't bother go-go-going through the tr-trash either."

Suddenly, Rick grabs Morty by the collar balling up his yellow shirt in his fist and dragging to boy up to his face.

"Don't make me ask again." Rick growls.

"I'm not telling you Rick!" Morty yelps shoving Rick off of him. Rick staggers back, trips over his own feet and falls to the floor. He shakes his head, dragging his hand through his hair, and looks up at Morty. The scene is jarring. Rick was always the one who had his shit together. Through everything, especially when their lives were on the line, Rick's ability to not give a fuck gave him the ability to cruise through it, with Morty bumbling along at his side watching with rapt admiration after he'd saved their lives once again, but only after the adrenaline wore off, of course. How could this possibly be the same Rick? Lying on the floor looking for a fix. The drugs and booze gave Rick a rock-star persona. An "I don't give a fuck" kind of self-destructive attitude the crazy off the rails persona that made men seem hard and cool. That image existed in sharp contrast to the Rick lying on the floor. A man wanting to hurt himself. Desperate even. Morty's face softens for a moment watching Rick mumble obscenities to himself. He extends a hand to Rick. Rick eyes him cautiously then slaps it away, preferring to prop himself up. 

"Go to bed Rick." Morty mumbles, trying to hide the quiver in his voice and turns around. Rick pats down his lab coat, brushing off the dust from the kitchen floor grumbling more about being treated like a child. He doesn't protest and instead walks out of the kitchen and into his room, slamming the door. Morty releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

 

~*o*~

Breakfast the next morning goes by with surprising normalcy albeit with a very sleepy Morty. A new robot sits at the table picking marshmallows from a cereal box, plopping the sugary bits into Rick's bowl. Beth dotes on Rick far more than usual, scurrying back and forth from the fridge and table asking Rick if he needs more orange juice. The answer is "No sweetie, but thanks." with a seemingly genuine smile that makes her light up. Morty hovers over his cereal leaning on his hand, trying his best not to fall into the sugary milk. He watches his mom and Rick banter and he cracks a smile. It honestly seemed like things were okay. He glances at Summer, who happens to look up from her cell phone, and she flashes a devious smile. A crumb of toast goes flying towards him and he holds up his arms to block it. Summer rolls her eyes and holds her phone to her face failing to hide a small smirk.

"No food fights at the table." Jerry droned waving a fork at the two. Beth takes her seat at the table and turns to Rick.

"Dad, if you need anything don't be afraid to ask alright?" Beth says grabbing Rick’s non-spoon holding arm from across the table.

"Sure sweetie." Rick replies maneuvering his hand on top to hold hers. He scoops another bite of cereal into his mouth absentmindedly. Beth pulls her arm away and crosses them. Rick snaps to attention.

"Dad." Beth gives him a severe look. "I mean it."

"Okay Okay! Really, I will." Rick holds his arms up in surrender, complete with spoon. Morty brushes toast crumbs off his arms. Maybe things really will be okay. Though how normal can things really be with what had happened? Morty spins the cereal in his bowl and broods over the position he'd put himself in. No, the position Rick put him in. The same dull ache from the night before pulls at Morty threatening to drown him in his cereal bowl.

Breakfast continues without incident. That is until they're putting dishes into the sink and Beth grabs Morty by the arm as he's putting away his dishes. They stand alone in the kitchen. Morty looks at his mother with surprise standing silent as he waits for her to speak. She glances towards the entrances to the kitchen.

"Morty." She says seriously, letting go of his arm.

"Ye-Yeah mom?" Morty asks still very much in the dark.

"Keep an eye on your grandpa alright? I'll keep an eye on him while he's here, but I can't when he's off with you. If anything happens let me know. Can you do that for me?" Morty looks at his mom, her arms crossed eyes glancing back and forth. He can't recall another time she had looked this concerned. 

"Sure. I-I-I'll watch him." Morty replies. He definitely could not defend Rick with all the times he had saved their asses in the vastness of space. That is unless he wanted another kind of talking to because until now, Rick had been the one keeping an eye on him. Morty stuffs his comments down with all the other things he keeps from the family, and to be honest, it was pretty full down there.

"Promise?" Beth says, eyeing him questioningly.

"I pr-promise!" Morty chirps straightening out topping off his promise with a mock salute. Beth laughs and kisses Morty on the cheek.

"Okay, and be sure not to mention this to him. Also-" She pauses to put a hand on Morty's face to inspect his eyes, the dark bags of sleep deprivation evident. "Get some sleep okay? You can't keep an eye on him if you're asleep." Beth ruffles Morty's hair and grabs her purse off the counter. "I'm heading to the store. Is there anything else you want?" She holds out a small slip of paper to Morty. On it are various mundane grocery items. Morty takes the slip and Beth hands him a pencil. He writes an addendum to ice cream, Cherry Garcia in parenthesis, and a new item, vanilla wafers, then hands back the list to Beth. She looks at the new list and smiles.

"I'll be back in an hour." Beth says and takes her leave out the front door. Just like that he was left on watch duty. Well, technically sleep duty, which Morty decided to shirk out of in favor of keeping an eye on Rick. Morty walks into the living room to join the rest of the family. Jerry's on his tablet, Rick and Summer are on the couch arguing over what to watch on T.V. and the Meeseeks box sits on the stand forgotten. With the amount of time Rick and Morty spend time together normally, Morty's secret mission wouldn't be suspicious at all.

"Summer I didn't install interdimensional cable to watch your shitty MTV special" Rick says rubbing his forehead in irritation.

"But Grandpa Rick, it's only on today." Summer whines.

"Have you ever heard of Tivo Summer? I'm pr-pretty sure that exists in this dimension too."

"Fine, but we're watching it after whatever this is..." Summer says raising her hand toward the T.V. On screen a man loads a gun made of toaster pastry with a capsule of frosting. Streams of strawberry syrup fly through the air barely missing him creating gooey puddles of red on the concrete behind him.

Morty sits on the couch in between the two, accidentally sitting on the fringes of Rick's lab coat. He gets up and pushes the fabric away, knuckles brushing against Rick.

"Awww shit. Now that’s what I'm talking about." Rick puts his feet up on the coffee table, feeling a slight touch on his lab coat he brushes it away with his hand, the warmth indicating that no, it wasn't the family tablet or other nonsense Smith family thing he thought it was. Morty jerks his hand away, wringing it with the other like a wet rag. The guilty smile he flashes is marked for 'things to deal with later' in Rick's head. Obviously something was going on, but he simply looks at him quizzically for a moment then toward the T.V. Morty stares at him panicked knowing full well that this was all very suspicious and completely not what his mom told him to do earlier. 

"You don't have to act like I'm radioactive Morty." Rick says facing away. And in that flat toned sarcastic response Morty's heart shrivels like a prune and he's so ill-equipped to do this he reconsiders his promise to his mom. His grandfather sips from his flask, coating his lips and chin in a fresh green slick and Morty's brain is teleported to last night quicker than lightning. Rick desperate for a blade. Rick on the ground. Rick completely caught up in his own hell. Then the exhaustion from staying up all night hits him, tossing any idea of increased observation out the window despite his growing worry. Morty decides that Rick would probably stick around in the living room for the next hour or so until his show ended, giving him some time to not be a total idiot and recompose himself, maybe even take a short nap. His dad and sister were both in the room too so they would know if Rick decided to leave. Seeing Summer with the texting app on her phone open, the unnerved Morty grabs his phone and taps her out a quick message watching as the bubble appears soundlessly on her screen.

~let me know if rick leaves the living room

Her practiced fingers tap out a response and a reply bubbles onto Morty's phone.

*sure, but why?

Morty replies.

~mom told me to keep an eye on him.

The message pops up on Summer's screen and she nods. Rick's stunt was a sign of bigger trouble and it was apparent to everyone in the family, including Jerry, as much as he didn't show it. 

*alright. you going somewhere?

~just upstairs. to sleep.

*okay ill let you know.

Summer flashes a small smile before nudging him sharply with her shoulder the force sending him straight into Rick, who grunts but doesn't turn from the T.V. Morty takes advantage of his inattention and leaves the sofa, not before shooting Summer a disapproving look.

"Have a nice nap." Summer says. Morty sighs and waves her off. 

But Morty doesn't nap when he gets to his room. Instead he spends the next few hours pouring over Wikipedia pages for information. Lingering on pages about alcoholism, drug abuse, and self-harm. And the content of each is so clinical and textbook he pratically falls asleep on the keys. To keep himself awake he pulls up a document to make notes on how to approach someone who is self harming, and throughout it he keeps thinking of a young scared teenager like himself taking razors their arms and crying over My Chemical Romance albums and a stray image of Rick with bangs over his eyes, a black t-shirt, eyeliner, and goth platform heels pulls him out of his sleepy stupor. It's so uncharacteristic and Morty laughs to himself bitterly. Morbid and stupid.

~*o*~

Rick sits on the couch with Summer, sharing a box of wafers, watching the recorded 'Pregnant Babies Special: Where Are They Now?' Pastries and Robbers had ended an hour ago and Rick had gotten tired of the sugary shenanigans after the detective Sergeant Rupie Flims gave into his pregnant wife's demands and quit his field work for the kid. Deeming it a 'lame cop out' pun completely intended he handed the remote to Summer. Who gleefully snatched it away and turned the T.V. to her recorded program. Jerry had left long ago after persistent heckling from him that if he had time to pop balloons on a stupid tablet he had time to job search. His idiot son-in-law had protested and promptly retreated to his office away from any hostility. 

On screen there are a few characters Rick is annoyed he recognizes; the mom, Jamie, and daughter, Samandra, at the store picking out clothes.

"Who names their daughter Samandra?" Rick says and takes a long drink from his flask, tipping it till the last drop of whiskey drips off the metal and into his mouth.

"I know right?" Summer sneers. "Oh my god that dress is atrocious." 

"Wh-what is she trying to raise a str-stripper?" Summer laughs and gives Rick a devious look.

"Kinda fun riiiight?"

"Fu-fuck off." 

A sharp beep cuts the chatter of underage girls bickering with their baby daddies. Summer looks towards the hallway to Rick's room. The light from under the door leaks into the hallway projecting a dim blue glow.

"Are you incubating more face-huggers Grandpa Rick?" Summer teases tilting her head for maximum sass.

"No Summer. As much as I want to watch the rest of this garbage I have a call waiting." Rick replies, punctuating the ‘I’ by standing up, taking the wafer box with him.

"Hey!" Summer protests and reaches out toward Rick who had already cleared the room. "Whatever." She pulls her legs up to her knees and turns her attention back to the TV. As Rick leaves the room she shoots a quick text to Morty.

*hey Rick walked into his room to answer a call

Rick munches on wafers and opens his bedroom door. In the corner of the room, next to the Traflokian pipe, on the table a small device with a screen glowed. Duty calls. Or rather called, his inbox reads one new message. Rick drops the wafer box onto his bed. The voice message in the harsh tone of Galactic Standard is made more incomprehensible with the shitty voice filter giving his client anonymity. Rick cuts off the voice recording and navigates to his email, where the device has cherry picked the important parts of the conversation for him. It's a delivery order. A pick-up drop-off no-brainer mission. Well except for the fact that it ended in the heart of federation space. His finger taps the device screen. Normally this would be a no-go but a risky mission seemed right up his alley tonight. Rick pulls his portal gun from his lab coat and gets halfway done with inputting the coordinates before stopping, looking at the device blankly, and dropping it back into his lab coat pocket. He grabs the wafers off the bed and walks back into the living room, tossing the box to Summer.

"Catch." Rick says dryly. She barely catches it, fingers fumbling with the cardboard as it almost topples onto the carpet. 

"Thanks grandpa." Summer replies opening the box and eating a wafer, eyes glued to the drama on screen. She tears them away to glance at her phone. No response.

"Yeah." Rick replies. "Where's Morty?"

"I dunno. Upstairs maybe? Do I look like my brother's keeper?" 

"Uh, Yeah." Rick replies with his usual sarcastic bite. Summer rolls her eyes before watching Rick walk off into the kitchen towards the stairs. The next action to take was obvious and her fingers danced on the keyboard sending off a quick warning to Morty. 

*he's heading up to your room 

Upstairs Morty's phone vibrates on the table, ignored.


	4. Impulsive Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all else fails walk into a death trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theres a quick one off reference that can be construed (and I mean you'll need a lot of mental gymnastics to get there) as Rickmorty in the beginning. Fair warning. Doesn't go any farther than that, and it won't for the the rest of this fic.

When Rick barges into his room Morty's at his desk head planted firmly on his laptop keys. A line of y's flying across the screen. Rick grabs Morty by the shoulders and peels him off the keys.

"Mo-Morty wake up. We go-gotta go." 

"Huuuh. Uhhhn." Morty groans and stirs. "Ah Rick!" He quickly scrambles to save and close his document and research tabs. Unfortunately it reveals the window with his non-research material from the day before. An image of a paused porn video pops up an older gentleman balls deep in a redhead. The shame hits Morty straight in the chest and he quickly closes the tab before feeling the warm creep of blush on his neck and face. Rooted to his desk, Morty sits wide-eyed in panic.

"Morty, wh-what are you doing? I don't give a fuck what porn you look at Morty. Quit st-stalling and co-com-get up!" Rick says and starts dragging him out of the chair. While being scraped across the carpet Morty wonders what was worse, being caught looking porn or being caught playing Rick's psychologist. After a particularly rough pull across the carpet he's snaps out of his thoughts.

"Geez O-okay. You're grabbing me to hard!" Morty whines and tugs away from Rick's grip. He follows him downstairs and into the garage. A bleary-eyed Morty climbs into the ship. Metal creaks and moans over the wobbly sound of the engine and the two zoom off into the sky. 

~*o*~

Rick should have seen it coming. He thinks to himself after the fact. It shouldn't have happened. Should have been more careful... the words play over and over again in his head. But the fact is it did happen.

The mission started normally. Drop the stuff off get out, until the Plorsins got greedy, claimed they had paid for more than they got. Rick remembers damn well they paid for exactly what they had. Those fuckers tried to jip him of his flourbos. They had to leave. There was no way he would take a shitty deal. For a second when they left it felt like they had really let them go, until they got halfway across the palace garden. he should have seen it coming. The Plorsins aren't upfront; they aren't one to protest with an audience, they'll take you out discreetly with no real fuss. He should have taken the deal. He knew better. 

~*o*~

"Fuck 'em Morty. Thats some real slimey shit they're trying to pull in there." Rick says, Morty following with cargo in tow. 

"I-I mean I'm surprised. They to-took it pretty well didn't they?" Morty says. Rick clasps a hand on his shoulder and Morty tenses. 

"Yu-Yup buncha wimps. We can definitely sell this for more, absolutely. I'll cut my client in too th-that'll keep 'em happy." Rick says waving his arms grandly.

"Su-sure, we can even catch the re-run of Cops and Flobbers: Where are They Now? G-g-glorbian edition." Morty says closing his eyes and smiling. The box in his arms sways back and forth with his steps.

"Yo-you know we can." Rick replies. "Good thing your ol' grandpa can sell anyone anything." Rick says, then grabs Morty into a headlocks and noogies his head.

"He-hey! Quit it Rick! Hahaha." Morty struggles playfully, accidentally knocking Rick's blaster out of his pocket.

Then the hot sear of a laser grazes Rick's back. Instantly, he push a hand to Morty's chest and shoves him behind him. Suddenly, they're surrounded by Plorsins, all with blasters pointing directly at them.

"Morty ge-get down!" Rick yells, he leaves him behind and scrambles to get his blaster, only for it to be knocked away by a well aimed shot.

"Ri-Rick!" Morty yelps looking back and forth in panicked confusion. Rick grits his teeth and rolls towards his gun, narrowly avoiding more blasts. It's within reach, and he palms the handle then, turning on his heels and still on one knee shoots at the Plorsins western style. Blam Blam. Two go down. A volley of lasers criss-cross the path between him and Morty. 

"Toss it!" Rick yells to Morty, who chucks the box like it's toxic to his general direction. It flies through the air and the Plorsins ceasefire, the cargo too precious to destroy. Rick runs and stands over the box, Morty scrambles to get closer. The sound of heavy metal footsteps signal Rick to the incoming foot soldiers. The knight-like aliens march forward toward him. Rick grabs his portal gun in his off-hand and fires twice. Sssshoop. A green portal opens below them and they fall in, sssshooop, and then out through Rick's other quickly placed portal, and right into their allies, the residual momentum of their charge bowling their allies over.

"Stiiii-riiike!" Rick yells and turns to Morty. "Th-thats ho-how you d-do-, get her done." Morty smiles, but Rick's gloating is prematurely ended by a particularly close laser blast to the feet that singes his shoes.

"Goddammit" Rick says, stepping closer to the offender and blasting it in the face. More and more lasers fire from behind his feet, forcing him closer and closer to a group of assassins farther and farther away from Morty and the box. Before he knows it he's be pushed well away from the cargo and Morty, who until now had had the benefit of Rick being the primary distraction target. As more lasers fly and a surviving knight Plorsin charges Rick, he dodges and executes it, it's becoming more and more apparent that they're being overrun.

"Morty, stay on the thing! Th-they can't hurt the thing!" Rick yells, and kicks another knight in the chest.

"O-Okay!" Morty yells and snatches the cargo up. "He-hey over here! Lo-look at this!" Morty waves the box over his head. The Plorsins turn toward him and rush the box and Morty.

"Fuck Morty I didn't say do that! For fucks sake." Rick exclaims as the Plorsins rush toward Morty, a large group chasing the now sprinting boy. Rick fires his portal gun directly ahead of him. Ssshhhooom. Then, with one eye lined up above the portal gun's green light, he tracks Morty's running path to portal himself between him and the oncoming aliens. The silver tip of his gun traces the space between Morty and the impending horde. It lines up, and he takes the shot.

Sssshoomp. Before he sees it materialize, Rick jumps on through the portal ahead of him and positions himself with a Plorsin directly ahead of him, just as planned. Rick shoves himself into the alien, knocking it back and into those lined up behind him, then kicks the downed Plorsian. It's helmet goes rattling into the garden dust.

"Mo-morty you idiot!" Rick yells. Then, THUNK. The sound of precious cargo hitting dirt. Rick turns to see Morty face deep in mud and the cargo 3 feet ahead of him toppled over.

A Plorsin to his right is aiming directly at Morty. Its red and purple weapon trained on the boy.

"Morty!" Rick yells and before he can even kickstart logical processing he jumps in the path of the laser. He flies through the air in an attempt to shield Morty from the shot, which he apparently didn't need to do as the shot only grazes his coat. The maneuver lands on his foot and knee, allowing him to turn swiftly and return fire, but a different Plorsin crouching behind a rock is already poised to shoot. It's laser flies directly towards him. The red light burst draws too close. A searing pain shoots up Rick's leg and despite the protests from his brain, his muscles give out and he topples over.

“Rick!” Morty yells turning and stepping towards the wounded Rick, but another shot in his direction sends him scrambling away.

"Morty!" Rick yells holding his hand out to the distancing boy. More lasers fire, blam, blam, blam. Torso, Arm, Shoulder. The points of contact of laser and flesh a gruesome sight. Morty falls, straight onto the box with a heavy thud. Despite his leg Rick runs, firing back at the Plorsins. He scoops Morty up and over his shoulder, leaving the box behind. Rick's wounds pulse and throb, but adrenaline numbs the pain. He scrambles towards the ship as fast as physically possible. Luckily the Plorsins are more interested in his cargo then him or Morty. They seize the box and send a few victory shots into the sky. Gutteral whoops and yells fill the air as Rick loads a wounded Morty into the ship. He drags himself into the pilot seat, dead leg and all, and starts the thrusters. The engines roar to life and the planet becomes small as the ship ascends from the hostile place. With danger passed Rick winces as a searing pain shoots up from his leg, taking over the numbed adrenaline rush now that they were in relative safety. The burn on his back flares from contact with the seat, He slumps over the controls to avoid any more of that, managing to key in the coordinates to the nearest no questions asked hospital. The whir of the ship an almost comforting noise as he hovers over the wheel, and steels himself against the agony of the burns. They were lucky to get out of there alive. He knows it. He knew it coming in, and now....

Next to him Morty is silent, limp in the chair. Luckily laser cauterizes wounds so he isn't bleeding all over the seat, but it’s bad. Real bad. Rick flicks on the auto pilot and drags himself towards Morty to survey the damage. It's not pretty. Morty's left arm missing a circular chunk is singed and weeping, his shoulder better, but still burned. Okay, surface wounds not too bad. Rick shoves Morty's right arm away from where it's weakly clinging his torso. Rick's eyes go saucer-wide. The wound is deep, internal organ deep. The burnt flesh goes well past Morty's epidermal skin layer, which has been singed beyond recognition. Pale white giving way to a gruesome maroon abyss. The real damage is inside. Past the burned charcoal skin is a black-red patch of cauterized organ flesh. The carmine reds and pinks now scorched an grisly black. Raised bumps of darkened flesh directly scarred by the quick high temperature energy pulse lay exposed to the elements by the gaping hole. A sliver of dark green liquid flows past what Rick guesses to be the liver. It rolls past guts and charred skin onto the chair collecting into a tiny round pool. Morty groans weakly.

"Morty. Oh man... it do-doesn't look great. You got hit bad kid. But, you'll be okay. You're gonna be fine." Rick says careful not to move the boy any much more. He can't tell if its the ship or his blood rushing that's roaring in his ears.

"Ri... Ric.." Morty gasps.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay." Rick says taking the boys wrist. He squeezes lightly, feeling a weak pulse. Morty's face is pale. His lids flutter shut, then tremble open. The eyes behind them, half lidded, now stare blankly at Rick. He looks back, brow furrowed. Morty see's a look he's never really seen before on Rick. A look of fear.

It's not rare for Rick to lie to Morty. It happens all the time, twists of the truth to force him into action. That scared little shit. It's easy, almost fun. And Rick is also almost always sure; sure of himself, his actions... the repercussions. But he isn't now, and so he lies, and its most definitely not fun. Morty’s breathing goes gravely quiet, barely perceptible against the thrum of the engine and the roaring in Rick's head.

Actually this time,  
It sucks.


End file.
